鄉間雪景

V. S.奈保爾

【導讀】 V. S. 奈保爾（1932 —2018），印度裔英國作家，曾獲布克獎、毛姆獎、英國大衛·柯恩文學獎等獎項，并于 2001年獲得諾貝爾文學獎。奈保爾曾在世界各地廣泛游歷，創作了大量以亞、非、拉等第三世界為題材的小說與游記。

本文節選自奈保爾的小說《抵達之謎》（The Enigma of Arrival，1987）第一章“杰克的花園”（Jacks Garden）。該小說以倒敘的手法再現了奈保爾在英國的鄉村莊園以及旅行中對自我和世界的審視。小說字里行間彰顯了作者對景與物的敏銳洞察力，滿含他對英國鄉村莊園的人與景的懷念。在作者的回憶中，他的故鄉特立尼達與英國鄉村的四季交替出現，展現了他作為異鄉人的孤獨。

There was a blizzard1 on Christmas day， with the wind blowing from the northwest. I found， when I went out in the early afternoon， that the snow had been blown into a drift in the windbreak2. A bank of snow， then， beside the lane; and in the lee of every tree trunk， every sturdy twig， every obstacle， there was a sharp ridge that indicated the direction of the wind.

The shape and texture of this snow drift reminded me of a climate quite different： of a Trinidad beach where shallow streams—fresh water mingled with salt， salt predominating or lessening according to the tides—ran from tropical woodland to the sea. These streams rose and subsided with the tide. Water flowed now from the sea to the pools of the woodland river， now in the other direction. At every low tide the streams cut fresh channels in the freshly laid sand， created fresh sand cliffs， which then， when the tide began to rise again， fell neatly， segment by clean segment， into the rippled current： a geography lesson in miniature. To me as a child these streams always brought to mind the beginning of the world， the world before men， before the settlement. （Romance and ignorance： for though there were no longer aboriginal people on the island， they had been there for millennia.）

So the texture and shapes and patterns of the snow here on the down in the windbreak and in its lee created， in small， the geography of great countries.

...…

Beyond the brow of the hill the wind was keen; shelter was no longer provided by the hill or the windbreak. A livid3 gray sky， a gray but warm dirtiness， hung over the great plain， where the barrows were like pimples4： the stone circles lost in the snow， blurring the view at the edges， no sight of the colored artillery5 targets. At the bottom of the hill， among the farm buildings （made monumental by the snowfall）， was the dead cottage of Jack： snow lying on the ground about it （the droveway there normally so muddy and black） like a great clean thing， like a remaking of the world.

The snow made for hard walking. But weather like this in this usually mild valley revived in me a wish for extremes， though it was the cold and the damp and the wet that had carried away Jack. His damaged lungs， in that damp valley bottom， had denied him warmth even in the summer. （Something else， of course， if there had been no cold or damp， would have carried him away.）

On my early walks， after having my fill of the Henge and the barrows， I had looked for hares on one slope. Then， on another hill， at another season I had looked for larks， trying to keep them in sight as they rose and rose， lift upon lift， and watching for them as they dropped down. Now I looked for deer. A family of three had appeared in the valley， coming from no one knew where， and surviving in our well-tilled， well-grazed valley， dangerous over large tracts with military gunfire， crossed at many places by busy highways， surviving among us no one knew how.

They， the deer， had their run too. And it was in the hope of seeing them—in addition to my excitement at the snow and the wind—that I tramped round the farm buildings and up the droveway to the point from which there was a view of the wood and the untilled open slope where the deer sometimes grazed. And unbelievably—my Christmas reward！—they were there， in the snow. Usually， against the wood， the deer were hard to see; lower down， against the chalky green and brown of the bare slope， they were reddish brown， warm， but they had to be looked for. Now （like the rabbits of my very first week， coming out to feed on the lawn in front of my cottage） the deer were dirty-looking， gray， dark against the snow， easy marks for anyone who wished to knock them off.

I longed for those deer to survive. And they did. Towards the end of the winter I discovered one in the wilderness at the back of my cottage， in the marshland beside the river. He was a young deer and I caught sight of him one morning， all eyes， among the beaten-down brown reeds. And there for many mornings in succession I saw him. I stood on the rotting bridge over the black creek and looked. The secret， then， to see him， to keep him where he was， was to hold his eyes and to be still oneself. As long as you looked， he looked; as soon as you moved or made a gesture he was away， running at first through the reeds and tall grass and then giving the lovely leap that could take him clear over fences and hedges.

The spring came. The new surface of the lane up the hill held. The new life of the farm continued.

圣誕節那天，暴風雪從天而降，西北風也呼嘯而來。下午早些時候出去時，我發現防風林里已經堆起厚厚的積雪。小路旁已經積滿了一排雪;每一根樹干、每一根結實的樹枝、每一個障礙物的背風處，積雪都形成清晰的邊界，顯示出風向。

這雪堆的形狀和質感讓我想起了一種截然不同的氣候：在特立尼達島的海灘上，淺灘溪流從熱帶森林流向了海洋，淡水混合著鹽分，潮水的漲落決定鹽分的多少。溪流隨潮汐漲落。水時而從海里流向林地的河塘，時而反向流動。每到退潮的時候，溪流就在剛剛沉積的沙地上開辟出新的水道，形成新的沙崖，當潮水再次上漲時，這些沙崖就整齊利落地垮下去，一段段落入滾滾涌流中：這是一堂小型地理課。孩提時，這些溪流總讓我想起洪荒時代，那個人類尚未出現、拓荒尚未開始的世界。（這是浪漫而無知的想法：雖然島上不再有土著居民，但他們曾經在這里生活了數千年。）

因而，在下面的防風林及其背風處，雪的質感、形狀和圖案構造了這遼闊鄉土的微觀地貌。

……

山脊的另一邊，寒風凜冽;小山或防風林已不能再提供庇護。青灰色的天空灰蒙蒙的，一片污濁，卻又顯暖意，就這樣籠罩著大平原，平原上的一座座古墳就像人臉上凸起的一個個粉刺：巨石陣消失在雪地里，四面八方的景致模糊了，彩色的火炮靶子也無跡可循了。山腳下，杰克那間死氣沉沉的農舍就在那些農場建筑中間（大雪的覆蓋使它們看起來更顯宏偉）：雪覆蓋了房子周圍的地面（那里的車道通常泥濘污黑），使農舍看起來干凈極了，就像重塑了一個世界。

積雪使行走變得艱難。不過，在這個氣候一向溫和的山谷里，這樣的天氣倒讓我重新渴望起極端天氣的出現，盡管正是寒冷、潮濕和陰雨天帶走了杰克。在潮濕的谷底，即使夏天，他那受損傷的肺也讓他無法感受到溫暖。（當然，即便沒有寒冷或潮濕，也還會有別的東西把他帶走。）

以前散步的時候，看夠了巨石陣和墳堆之后，我會在一個山坡上尋找野兔。然后，在另一個季節，我會在另一座山上尋找云雀，在它們攀升高飛時用目光追隨，在它們轉而下落時也密切注視。現在，我尋找鹿。山谷里出現了鹿的蹤跡，還是一個三口之家，它們不知從何而來，在我們這個精耕細作、適宜放牧的山谷里生存下來。這里的大片土地都屬于軍隊炮火覆蓋的危險地帶，很多地方有繁忙的公路穿過，誰也不知道它們是如何在我們當中活下來的。

那些鹿，它們也有自己的活動場地。抱著看到它們的希望，加上這風雪帶給我的興奮勁兒，我艱難繞過農場的各棟建筑，沿著車道往上走，一直走到能看見樹林和斜坡的地方。那塊斜坡尚未開墾，十分開闊，鹿有時會在那里吃草。真令人難以置信——我的圣誕禮物！——它們就在那兒，在雪中。通常，在樹林的掩映下，鹿很難被發現;下方，在光禿山坡那灰綠和褐色的映襯下，它們的紅棕色看起來暖暖的，但還是要找一找才能發現它們。在雪的映襯下，眼前的鹿（就像我第一個星期看到的那些兔子，它們從我小屋前的草地中鉆出來吃草）顯得臟兮兮的，灰灰黑黑，對任何想干掉它們的人來說，這靶子都太明顯了。

我盼望那些鹿能活下來。它們真的活下來了。冬天快結束的時候，我在小屋后面的荒地里發現了一頭鹿，它就在河邊的沼澤地里。那是一頭小公鹿，一天早晨，我突然看到了它，就在那片被風吹彎了腰的棕色蘆葦叢中，正目不轉睛地盯著我。一連好幾個早晨我都看見了它。我站在那座有些腐朽的橋上望著它，橋下是暗黑的小溪。知道嗎，要想看到它并讓它原地不動，秘訣就是鎖定它的目光，自己保持不動。只要你看它，它就會看你;只要你一動，或者打個手勢，它就跑開了，先是飛奔著穿過蘆葦和蒿草，然后可愛地縱身一躍，就能干凈利索地跳過圍欄和籬笆。

春天來了。上山那條小路的新路面依然如故。農場的新生活還在繼續。

（譯者單位：北京語言大學）